


A Thousand Candles

by astarsdarkheart



Series: Glass Candles [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Aroace Luke Skywalker, Aromantic Luke Skywalker, Asexual Luke Skywalker, Espionage, Gen, amatonormativity: the true failure tm of the empire, extremely impolite uses of telepathy, in a moment of panic Vader attempts to parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 18:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astarsdarkheart/pseuds/astarsdarkheart
Summary: Most humans - and most other life forms that Sidious knows of - have a very specific, and very predictable, weak point. Leveraging it to bring the next generation's Skywalker in line should solve a great many problems. But that requires finding the one unique weak point. And Commander Luke Skywalker does not make that easy.





	A Thousand Candles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an [Aro/Ace Luke fic drive](http://acesinspace.tumblr.com/ficdrive) run by [acesinspace](http://acesinspace.tumblr.com) and [astriiformes](http://astriiformes.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Because more aroace Luke is always a good thing, right?  
> For this particular event, the usual theme of 'Luke has problems regarding aroaceness and Anakin is there for emotional support' has been sidelined in order to follow a prompt submitted for the fic drive: "That post that was floating around a while back about Palpatine planning the same kind of conversion tactic that he used on Anakin, only to be deeply confused when Luke’s strongest bonds are his friends."  
> So basically, for the purposes of this prompt, I get to make the villain that everyone says is Too Evil For Love the most obnoxiously amatonormative creature I can bring myself to write, which is _brilliant_. I really must do it again some time.  
>  Minor angsting, Luke has his commitment to being a ray of sunshine tested (but this is 'not intentionally contradictory of canon as the author knows it' fic, so rest assured Luke still gets to redeem his father and be ultimately happy in his aroaceness in this 'verse) and Sidious has some extremely questionable ideas about what uses of the Force are considered ethical.

Getting close to one specific commander in the Rebel Alliance with only the description of ‘young and untrained, but the Force is strong with him’ from Lord Vader had not, Mobatha soon decided, been a plan with much hope of success at any point in its conception. Either Lord Vader was becoming unreasonably desperate – an alarming trait for the merciless Dragon of the Empire to display at any time, and even more so now the simmering resistance of the Alliance had erupted into genuine combat – or the Emperor had given his vassal some desperately unreasonable target.

As far as Mobatha was concerned, attempting to navigate the temporary Alliance base on this forsaken rat-hole of a jungle planet was quite enough trouble without trying to find a commander from a division she hadn’t even been put in.

A pilot darted around her with a cheery wave as she pushed through the crowd. She bit back the urge to scowl and raised a hand in an attempt at a casual salute. Good grief, these rebels... where was the decorum? She’d heard stories about the Death Star being infiltrated by a couple of rebels dressed as stormtroopers prior to its altogether unseemly destruction, and before arriving at this base, she’d been happy to believe that someone had laid groundwork for the station’s eventual destruction. Now she’d been here a couple of months, the thought was inconceivable. Any one of these rebels would have been a flashing alarm even kitted out in Imperial uniforms. Not one could hold decent military bearing.

A couple of minor officers brought up the rear of the moving group. Their ranks were aggravatingly hard to discern. “... that Commander Skywalker’s got contacts... what the Hutts had to do with...”

 _Skywalker?_ Mobatha staggered a few steps. Hadn’t that been the name of that one Jedi bastard... that one that everyone said had stood against the clone troops as Vader had entered the old Temple, only to die with the younglings, a foolhardy teacher to the end? Vader had surely put an end to _him_.

But _this_ Skywalker was a commander...

Maybe finding this commander wouldn’t be that difficult. She could hope that this was a stroke of luck and not just an eccentric coincidence.

 

“Skywalker? Oh, he flew with us when we went to blow up the Death Star. Only three of us and Captain Solo made it back. And, well, as good a flyer as Solo is...”

The Wookiee standing over Mobatha’s conversation with the Rogue Squadron captain growled.

“Sorry, buddy.” The captain chuckled. “I won’t say a word.”

Mobatha pushed her sigh down into her stomach. “Wasn’t Skywalker a hero of the Clone Wars?”

“Different guy if he was. Our Commander can’t have been born much before the end of those wars, doubt he was running around leading troops as a toddler on Tatooine. Has a lightsabre, though, guess that came from a Jedi at some point.” The captain shrugged with a broad but tight-lipped grin.

How would the lightsabre of a fallen Jedi have reached some stripling out of the Outer Rim? “Does he speak Huttese?”

The captain shrugged. “Knows a few curses, at least.”

The Wookiee growled again, although after a moment Mobatha decided that the odd hiccuping noise was most likely a laugh. She took a deep breath. “An aunt of mine was taken to the Temple to train as a Jedi... I always wondered what happened to her, after the Purge. Do you think... Skywalker... he might know anyone?”

The captain shrugged. “Well, you can try asking him, if you can chase him down. Doesn’t tend to be easily done. Not sure the usual laws of time and space apply to Skywalker.”

Mobatha frowned. That certainly sounded like a Jedi. Could any of them prevent themselves from ageing, too? “Is there... anyone he might say more to? Maybe a partner?”

The captain burst out laughing. “Not Commander Skywalker, oh no, but you can try the Princess if you’re desperate. He busted her off the Death Star.”

Mobatha scoffed. “I’m in no more position to talk to the Princess than I am to talk to a Commander of a division I’m not even in.”

“You come out of an Imperial academy?” The captain leaned back in his seat. Mobatha bit her tongue and nodded slowly, a nod the captain returned with a low chuckle. “Long as you don’t get in their way, doesn’t make much difference what the other person’s rank is. Least as long as we’re not fighting.”

Mobatha nodded, jaw clamping around the acidic retort that sprang to mind. No wonder the rebellion was such an incoherent disaster of a scattered half-armed force. Speaking to a _Princess_ in order to locate a _commander_... Lord Vader have her at his less than frequent mercy, this mission just kept adding insult to the injury of having to pretend to be part of this lump of rebel pond scum.

Nonetheless, she had a mission. Going through a Princess to locate a Commander was not going to be as unpleasant as the consequence of failing the Emperor and Lord Vader.

 

“His exact words were ‘not Commander Skywalker, oh no’.”

Sidious frowned at the tiny holo-projection. “He is discreet. How interesting.”

“Sir...” The holo-projection gulped. “You don’t think that the captain who works in his division might know...”

“Pah! People can be very delicate indeed about their trysts, when it suits them.” Sidious sat back in his chair with a lazy smirk. “Continue with the mission as described by Lord Vader. Provided this Skywalker allows himself to be found, it will be most useful.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

 

The Princess that half of this doomed enterprise seemed to revolve around merely raised an eyebrow at Mobatha’s delicate enquiry. “Commander Skywalker? Mobilising a Rogue Squadron recon flight to a couple outlying systems at the moment. He should be back within the next four hours at the latest.”

Four hours? Mobatha took a deep breath. “If you see him before I do...”

“Mobatha Chait, that’s your name, yes?”

Mobatha gave a hesitant nod. For all that this woman held a royal title and not a military one, she certainly acted more like an officer.

“I’ll tell Luke if I see him before you do.”

Tell _Luke_? Mobatha blinked, then gathered her tongue and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The Princess gave a curt nod of her own before turning to the approaching deck officer. Mobatha backed away until she was just out of earshot, then turned to stride away down the first corridor she found – stock rooms for replacement ship parts, if she was reading the scramble-coded Aurebesh right. Storm-mother’s mercy, talking to the Princess had been like standing in front of Lord Vader. Well, standing in front of Lord Vader while he was in one of his better – or at least less immediately homicidal – moods, but even that was enough to make lingering shivers settle between her pinching shoulder blades.

The old Jedi hadn’t been named _Luke_ , that at least she was sure of. So this Skywalker was someone else. But the captain had said he had a lightsabre...

Well, it was the _right_ Commander, at least. The fact that he’d proved a puzzling figure before she’d even met him was the Emperor’s problem. Although she did have to wonder what had prompted him to cut in over Lord Vader about this mission.

 

“Looking for someone?” Luke asked, grinning over his shoulder as he bent down to pick up his helmet. His flightsuit creaked around him. The damp air outside the base and the permanent coolers inside it were not a good combination for much of the Rebellion’s equipment.

The recruit he’d bumped into nodded, head down as she brushed herself off. “A Commander Skywalker? I was told he’d be working with some reconnaissance flights...”

He chuckled as he pushed himself upright. “Looks like you’ve found him.”

The recruit lifted her head, blinking. “Oh.” After running her gaze up and down Luke’s flightsuit like she was trying to inspect it, she nodded and saluted. “Mobatha Chait, sir.”

“There’s really no need.” He shook his head as he shook another few leaves out of his helmet. They needed to find a new base soon, for the sake of keeping their precious few fighters and cannon intact if nothing else. “Call me Luke.”

“Ah... yes, sir. Luke.” The recruit blinked. Out of an Imperial academy, probably. The only rebel Luke had met who hadn’t come out of that system stiff as a starched plank was Biggs. _So many gone._ “I was wondering... Skywalker was the name of a Jedi hero of the Clone Wars, and my... aunt... she was part of the Order. I was wondering if you knew...”

Luke shrugged to cover the flinch. “Not as much as I’d like.” _And more than is good for me. Why didn’t you tell me, Ben?_ “But I’ve managed to speak to a few people who knew more about that time. I’m a little tied up with the reconnaissance work right now, but if you want to drop by in a couple hours, Wedge should be able to take it from there.”

The recruit’s eyes widened. Then she blinked, as if to snap herself out of some reverie. “It’s much appreciated, Commander.”

“I’m serious, it’s not that important.” He shook his head, grinning again. “Worry about ranks when you need to worry about taking orders from someone.”

 

For some reason, despite being a mere commander, Skywalker got the use of a full set of quarters, with a sitting room that he was apparently willing to use for casual meetings. He was going over maps with another recent recruit – someone from a garrison Mobatha had visited as undercover bodyguard on an inspection tour, she was half certain – when Mobatha stepped through the door. Both the commander and the recruit looked up. Mobatha saluted, then remembered herself and let her hand fall. “Commander... Luke. You said to come see you...”

Skywalker nodded. “Take a seat. This won’t take long.”

The other recruit’s eyes narrowed as Mobatha crossed the room and levered herself into a chair. This was _definitely_ someone Mobatha had encountered on a previous mission. She went to great lengths never to look the same for two missions, of course, that was a crucial skill for the Empire’s intelligence officers, but she didn’t appreciate that scrutiny being turned on her by some stripling traitor younger than this precocious commander.

After a few seconds of tense eye contact, the recruit looked back down at the map and pointed at one of the red dots. “That’s a common staging point for exercises. It’ll be difficult to approach unseen, but an air strike might move fast enough to overcome that...”

“We’ll look into the possibility. Thank you, Venka.” Skywalker picked up the holo-projector, the map disappearing as soon as his hand closed around the little grey device. The recruit rose, giving a nervous salute that Skywalker returned with a grin. “Get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

Despite the recruit’s obvious Imperial academy bearing, they grinned as they left the room. The door clunked shut behind them.

Mobatha tore her gaze away from the door and turned to Skywalker. “The Alliance is keeping you busy. I had to speak to Princess Organa in order to find you.”

Skywalker chuckled, running a hand through his mussed blond hair. Scraggly, poorly groomed excuse for someone close enough to a Jedi to have a lightsabre. “I’m leaving for Tatooine in a couple of weeks. There’s a lot that needs doing before then. You had questions about the Jedi?”

Mobatha nodded. So far, so friendly. How could she turn a conversation about the Jedi into the enquiry into this commander’s personal life that the Emperor for some reason wanted? The Jedi were extinct for good reason, chewing over that for long wouldn’t be enjoyable. And it would likely test her temper, given that the rebels still wished each other good luck by saying ‘may the Force be with you’. Sweet storm-mother’s embrace. “So... Skywalker. It seems odd that you’d share a name with such a famous Jedi...”

Skywalker shrugged, then rolled his shoulders another time. “Anakin Skywalker was a hero of the Clone Wars. People say he made the last stand of the Jedi at the old Temple in Coruscant. I don’t know for sure why we share a name. It’s a Tatooine slave name, but no one I’ve talked to seems to know where Anakin Skywalker came from.”

Anakin, that was the name. Mobatha had mostly heard that he’d been a fiendish bastard whose actions on Geonosis had sparked the Clone Wars in the first place. “Slave name? You...”

He shook his head. “My aunt and uncle were several generations free. Most human surnames on Tatooine are slave names, though.”

“I was told you have a Jedi’s lightsabre...”

“You been talking to Wedge?” The laugh that Skywalker gave was forced. “I do have a lightsabre. An old friend gave it to me. An old Jedi who moved out to Tatooine after the Purge, didn’t think there was anything left for him closer to the Core. Think he managed to save it from a friend after the Purge.”

Mobatha nodded, forcing the cool air to move slowly through her teeth. “You don’t think he knew... if he was a Jedi, he might have known Anakin Skywalker. You don’t suppose...”

“The members of the Jedi Order weren’t allowed to marry or form attachments.” Skywalker shook his head, suddenly curt.

“Well, people can be good at hiding that kind of thing, can’t they?” That had worked out nicely. She crossed her legs and leaned forward over the low table. “Wedge said something about your own... habits...”

Skywalker flinched. Burning ice crackled in the air, freezing Mobatha to her chair. She bit together, but still shuddered. Skywalker turned his head aside. “I doubt he did. Who else have you been talking to?”

That wasn’t _quite_ an accusation. Mobatha sat back, chest heaving as the ice chill fell away. “Just him, that Wookiee that was here for two hours and then the Princess.”

“Chewbacca was back? Must have missed him.” Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure Leia caught him up.”

Mobatha took a deep breath. Clearly it would take more subtlety to get through to Skywalker. Perhaps earnestness would go some way towards disarming this... apparently formidable commander. What had he _done_ to make that burning chill run through the room? “I wondered if there was anyone I could talk to who’d reliably keep track of you even if you weren’t on duty. The captain could only suggest the Princess. Unless you’re suggesting that...”

“Mobatha. Let me make one thing clear, before you carry on.” He took a deep breath and turned his head aside. “I’m not interested in talking about my family life and relationships. That stays out of all Rebellion matters.”

Mobatha blinked. “The Jedi aren’t really a rebellion matter, are they? Unless there are plans for reconstituting the Order that I haven’t heard about yet.”

He heaved out a deep sigh. “It also stays out of rebellion conversations. That’s a matter for close friends, not the entire Alliance.”

Mobatha leaned back and let her head swivel, taking in the room. “This is very close to your quarters to invite someone who isn’t a friend...”

“It’s as good a place as I’ve got for casual meetings, and I don’t mean to suggest any active dislike.” He managed to grin, without a shadow or tenseness to it. That, Mobatha decided, either meant that the danger had passed or that he’d locked down so hard that it would take the Emperor’s hand to force the door open again. Hard to tell which until she got her fingers caught in the lock. Not a good place to be, although it was looking increasingly likely that her mission would come down either to that, or to covert spying in a base she’d already infiltrated. That would mostly be redundant and annoying, rather than dangerous.

Perhaps that would be the wiser course. Hopefully it wouldn’t slow down the Emperor’s plans too much. “It seems the Alliance still believes in the legacy of the Jedi...”

 

Sidious scowled as the tiny holo-figure shook her head. “I’ve been sneaking around the base all week. The closest thing to acting romantically that I’ve seen him do is hug the Princess when they meet off duty. He’s a little more careful with the new recruits, but he’s just as friendly with everyone. I’m almost certain he hugs the other pilots too.”

“Ridiculous. There is no human who cannot be brought low by the pull of love.”

The holo-figure gulped. “Pardon me, my lord, but I am increasingly wondering if this man is capable of that kind of love.”

Sidious surged forward out of his chair. “What do you mean?”

The holo-figure shivered as the person on the other end of the call flinched back. “Everyone I’ve spoken to says the same thing, my lord. He’s never showed interest in forming a relationship with anyone, and if it’s brought up around him he gets tense and stops the conversation. I’d say that he was embarrassed by the thought of people finding out, but... I have spoken to a great many people about it over the last week.” Another gulp. “He certainly doesn’t seem to have any capacity for differentiating the type of affection he shows different people.”

“And what sort of useless, pathetic life form would that make him?”

“Ah... these are rebels, my lord.”

“Never mind.” Sidious’ lip curled. “Stay undercover. I will speak to Lord Vader. We _will_ find this youth’s breaking point.”

 

Vader took several minutes to offer an opinion, and by the time he spoke Sidious was about ready to cut the respirator off and leave his apprentice to choke for a little while. “I have already tried kidnapping his friends. He was not so easily snared then.”

“As I recall, the two who were _not_ put into carbon freeze had... other help escaping.”

Once again, Vader fell silent. The older the man got – and humans could live well beyond Vader’s forty-odd years even without the help of Sith alchemy – the more difficult he became to maintain as an apprentice. He’d stayed useful for longer than Maul or Tyranus, at least, but Sidious needed the younger Skywalker, and soon, or Vader would set the youth up as his own apprentice. That was far too much trouble to entertain, and it would likely have to result in the death of two extremely powerful and otherwise useful apprentices. That would be irritating.

“My master, if he is not... given to valuing the company of any one person over another...”

“We cannot kidnap the entire Rebel Alliance,” Sidious snapped, face twisting. “Nor can we effectively threaten it without making the matter one for the military strength of the Alliance to respond to.”

“The... entire Rebel Alliance?”

“The spy you sent tells me that there is no one in their base that he gives significant preference to. There are merely some few with whom he interacts more often than others.” Sidious allowed himself a smile. “It is possible that this will take... a different method.”

“And if the spy is right about his... ability to love?”

“Do you sense something amiss, Lord Vader?”

Once again Vader stayed silent for too long. Just as Sidious was about to let his frustration out in a hiss, Vader folded his arms. “I have not sensed anything that would mean the spy is wrong.”

Something bubbled beneath his apprentice’s armour, but nothing that sent signals to the life support. Sidious sighed. Vader was holding back, but not, from what Sidious could sense, because of some scheme. Rather, _uncertainty_. After all these years. Pathetic. “I will bend my efforts to ascertaining what it is that makes this youth’s desires so elusive. Order the spy to attempt seduction in the meantime. If he cares for all of the rebels and does not suspect our agent, he _should_ be... persuadable.”

Vader bowed his head. “As you wish.”

 

The grey world around Luke made him twitchy, turning and twisting his neck in an attempt to find some distinguishing feature of the place. Force-touched dreams were nothing new, but this was an... unusually sharp-edged background.

And most places he’d been in that had looked like this had been Imperial structures.

 _Vader_. His hand jumped to the lightsabre on his – the space where the lightsabre had been on his belt. Even in dreams he’d lost it. He needed to finish the new one, and soon, or he’d be –

“Such weapons will be of no use to you here.”

 _That’s not Vader._ He turned on his heel, sinking into ready stance before catching himself, taking a deep breath, and straightening up. _This is a dream._

The figure in front of him now... Luke lowered his chin as the man approached. Warm-looking, clad in delicate rich world’s fabric, voluminous sleeves, a creeping miasma of that off-colour Force shadow he’d felt around the parts of Dagobah that Yoda had pointed out as being of the Dark Side.

A trace that had never been this strong save in Vader’s presence.

Who could match _Vader_ in the power of the dark side of the Force?

“Take a seat, my son.” The ageing man gestured to Luke’s right. He turned his head. There had not been chairs there a moment ago, but now there were two set around a small grey table. “We have a great many things to discuss.”

Luke’s jaw twitched. But he nodded and followed the ageing man to sit. This was a dream; nothing that seemed physical would in fact be so. Not that it stopped him from studying the chair’s sides a little too long, anticipating hidden bindings or other unpleasantries. It was that clouded air that followed this stranger he had to be cautious of, that cantankerous shadow of everything cruel about the Force.

What fallen Force-user could reach him this way? Vader’s touch in his dreams, that he could understand. _Even if I wish I didn’t. Why didn’t you tell me, Ben?_ But this was a stranger.

A stranger with an over-familiar smile that made Luke’s jaw tighten as the old man settled into the other chair. “You must care deeply for the Rebellion, to keep fighting. Surely you see that the entire affair is doomed.”

Air escaped Luke in a hissing rush. He shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath before allowing himself to speak. Anger uncontained had lost him a hand already. Even if this place carried the same chill impersonality of all the Empire’s facilities, it was still a part of his dreamscape, a space in his mind, under his control.

So the trace of the Dark Side this stranger brought with him could only take what root Luke would allow it.

_Is this man from somewhere else, or do I just not want to admit to my own failures?_

“I don’t believe that. The Empire will fall. It’s too cruel to its own people to last. It will be its own death. We’re just trying to minimise the suffering that will happen before it collapses.”

The stranger tilted his head. “Oh? So confident?”

Luke nodded, though his gaze flickered aside. The man on the other side of the table hadn’t so much as winced. He didn’t care what Luke might think about the rebellion’s chances.

“The trouble the rebellion has is that everyone in it trusts every other member to do what is in the best interests of the rebellion.” The stranger offered the commentary in a sagacious level tone that made Luke frown. “But it is an alliance made of people, and people are selfish. Without the ruling fist of someone to _command_ , someone to drive them on, people will... forget themselves... become indiscreet.”

Luke’s brow twitched. Yoda had told him, before he’d hurried off to Bespin, that attempting to save Han and Leia would come at the expense of the rest of the rebellion. _Would that have been true had Lando not decided that the deal with Vader wasn’t worth_ _the cost?_ “If we didn’t care about the people as well as the cause, we’d be as heartless as the Empire.”

“Do you really think that will _save_ you, son?” The stranger shook his head. “Do you think it will save the person you love?”

He couldn’t contain the shudder, try as he might. Once again, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t understand what you’re implying.” Stiff monotones like an ageing droid in need of a tune-up.

“Have you sent them away, out of the fight? Or are they still at your base, in as much danger from the Empire as you are? Ready to die at any moment?”

Luke let his head fall forward with a bitter chuckle hiding a weary sigh. Now even his own Force-dreams were getting on his case? “You’re trying to talk about a... a partner.”

The stranger’s face twisted, and for a moment looked to have twisted so far as to warp into a mass of scars. But a single blink restored the face to the altogether unremarkable one that had first greeted Luke when this figure had appeared. “Come now, son. We both know how important that love is to you. When it catches you, there is no other emotion.”

Luke blinked, then chuckled. “Not even the other things we also call love in Basic?”

The stranger shook his head. “They pale in comparison. You must know that by now.”

“You’re talking about feelings I’ve never had.”

The stranger’s face twisted again.

If this figure was a product of his own mind, this was a strange shape for it to take. It was always Vader’s face behind his fears, these days – ever since Bespin, that shadow had begun to loom even over places like Tatooine that the man himself had never touched – at least not in Luke’s memory. And had it been his own mind creating this figure, he wouldn’t have been able to describe what that other love felt like that way.

This presence was someone else. Someone intruding on his mind. “Why are you here?”

The stranger scowled and lifted a hand.

His back slammed against the chair. Luke grunted with the impact, then gasped in an attempt to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. The misty taint crept up around him, whispers just out of earshot crowding closer to his ears as the stranger across the table grimaced with seeming effort.

Shades of life forms began to appear at the edges of Luke’s blurring vision. He forced out a slow breath and let his eyes fall shut, calling to mind the star field that he’d learnt to focus on in meditation. Calm, vast, living and yet silent. Reaching for that point of _awareness_ where the Force ran through him without his having to scrabble for every little shard of it.

The sound of the shadow crowd hissing around him fell away. He opened his eyes.

The stranger had risen from his chair to stride around the circle of flickering people. “Hmm. You have... strong feelings about a great many people.”

Luke rose from the chair as the stranger turned away to look up at the shimmering image of Chewbacca standing with his bowcaster in hand and staring into the middle distance. These images looked to have been pulled from Luke’s memory – Chewbacca in a fight, Han staring at the Falcon’s controls in outraged disbelief, Leia’s head turning as she responded to questions from pilots, Wedge seated in a cockpit that had not made the transition from memory to imperfect recreation along with him, so many of the rebellion’s other figures filling the gaps between the clearest half-there images.

“And yet...” The stranger sighed as he turned back to face Luke, shrugging his heavy robe around his shoulders. “I cannot find so much as a _want_ for the greatest love that we as humans know.”

Luke rolled his shoulders back and shrugged, managing to smile. This was his dream, so this stranger could only go so far. “The people who’ve tried to tell me that the other love you’re talking about is the greatest one we know tend to fade away.”

The stranger’s eyebrows twitched. “And why is that, son?”

“If I believe them, I have to believe things about myself that I can’t.”

The stranger’s face twisted into the distorted flesh of scarring as he strode back towards Luke, stopping two paces short. He stood almost at Luke’s exact height. “You say that the Empire is heartless, and yet you contain... nothing.”

 _Nothing?_ All the aches of the people they’d lost – so many _gone_ – welled up in his chest. He took a deep breath. _Star field. It hurts, but right now is not the time to grieve._ “Perhaps it’s not heartlessness so much as... cruelty despite having a heart.”

A chill whispering through the hallway and sending all the shades of people to dust on the floor left him silent.

The stranger’s neck twitched. “What was that?”

Another presence. Luke stepped back, away from the cloying taste of Dark Side in the air. The other presence... that one was familiar. It’d lingered at the edge of his dreams before.

Dark Side too. But... cold, dry, without substance.

His gaze settled on the stranger’s eyes. As he watched, they seemed to gleam yellow in the lacking light. _Corruption and corrupted, plague and victim._

“You want me to turn to the Dark Side.”

The stranger’s eyebrows rose. “Son, I don’t think you quite understand... what it is you are up against. You will need every advantage.”

Somehow, for some indeterminable reason, the other Dark Side presence that lingered without a form to show itself in _bristled_. Luke took another deep breath and forced his back to straighten so he could shift into ready stance at a moment’s notice. He still didn’t have a lightsabre, but there was something about being ready for the mere possibility that eased his nervous twitches. Here in the dreamscape below conscious thought, it was easy to understand the messages the Force sent, easy to track presence and feeling, easy to notice things that were out of place, things taking on other aspects than their usual one. “I think, Emperor, that accepting the help of the very thing we’re up against would be a bad idea.”

Another welling chill ran through him like a sudden attack of rain. The stranger shuddered, bowing over. “What...” The words seemed to come through gritted teeth in a tight jaw. “What is he doing here...”

_Leave our son alone._

Two voices. One familiar, one not. The stranger scowled and moved an arm to tug at his robes, then froze there. His yellow gaze flickered about like that of an anxious Jawa.

Luke shut his eyes again, though he could feel his cheeks twitch into an involuntary smile. The taint of the Dark Side, the infectious sprawling taint that the stranger – the Emperor – carried with him, quivered under the smothering weight of his conviction.

When he once again opened his eyes, he looked out over the old base on Yavin 4. The Emperor still stood frozen, but now the false image of his face had fallen away, revealing the sneering, scar-twisted face that Luke could only identify thanks to his father’s presence.

“You are not welcome here.” He tried to deliver the words with some measure of dignity. They didn’t shiver, at least. _Not bad considering who I’m talking to._ “And I hope that when you fall you take your way of thinking about love with you.”

The Emperor’s indignant scowl twisted to something sharper for a moment. The sky darkened as lightning cracked. “What is it you fight for, if you have nothing to defend? Nothing that can truly _matter_ to you?”

Luke winced. But this was a dream. Only what he allowed to have substance was capable of touching him. “Go.”

Still sneering and tugging at incorporeal bindings, the Emperor vanished from view, dark robe falling to the ground before fading away in the drizzling rain. He took the reaching claws of the Dark Side with him.

But not every last trace of its presence.

Luke let his shoulders slump forward as he sighed. There was no point turning to face the chill that felt like someone with a bony – or perhaps metallic – hand on his shoulder. Static darkness, without the will behind it to ensnare anyone else. _So why did he ever ask me to join him?_

_Am I unwelcome here too, my son?_

Luke flinched, eyes drawing shut. _Why didn’t you tell me, Ben?_ “Just go.”

The rain kept falling over the abandoned base. Luke kept his spine straight, though forcing his breathing to stay level still took effort. The star field would still his mind and quiet any thought of the Dark Side. It did not push aside the ache of grief, or the tearing indecision of how to react to his father. The man he thought had put an end to everything his father had stood for.

Darth Vader _had_ put an end to everything Anakin Skywalker had stood for. Compassion, that thing the Empire could not, would not extend to a single one of its citizens, was essential to the Jedi way. Compassion, not... _love_.

If the Emperor himself could believe in the other love that way, call Luke heartless for not experiencing it, love wasn’t going to save a single one of them.

The chill presence shivered.

_Compassion, which I would define as... unconditional love, is central to a Jedi’s life._

_… you could say we are encouraged to love._

A different voice, high, wavering, insecure. Something in the tone so akin to the youth Luke had been mere years ago – the rebellion had to happen, but Force preserve them war could take so much, so many – and it made him shudder with recognition.

Luke folded his arms, head falling forward so he was staring at his boots. “Just go.”

The rain kept falling. As the rain began to drip from Luke’s hair, the chill of a not-there hand fell from his shoulder, the final smoke-scented remnants of Dark Side presence fading with it.

 

Warm as Commander Skywalker was, Venka still had trouble working up the courage to talk to him. Ze’d expected a far more cautious welcome from everyone at the base, considering that ze was a defector from an Imperial garrison. The apparent willingness of the Alliance command to extend the benefit of the doubt made hir twitchy.

The presence of the still loyal Imperial agent certainly made hir _more_ twitchy, but nonetheless the thought of going to Commander Skywalker at a time of day when he was likely to still be half asleep and telling him that someone else the Alliance had given the benefit of the doubt to was in fact not deserving of it felt altogether _wrong_. Ze folded hir arms as ze pattered through the base. Someone had to warn the command, however much it made hir stomach twist, and Skywalker at least smiled and looked interested when you talked. None of the other officers were rude or cruel, but most of them were more serious than Skywalker, and Venka was still too used to the careful bearing of Imperial officers hiding a wealth of cruelty.

Ze still didn’t dare approach Princess Leia, for all the other rebels ze’d spoken to had indicated that she was a kind and benevolent if often slightly vexed leader.

Outside Skywalker’s quarters, ze hesitated, staring at the door with hir heart in hir throat. Ze had to gulp several times before ze managed to raise a hand and knock, gaze turned down on the floor.

“Is it urgent?”

More sleep-tired and slurred than angered, but Venka still twitched. “Ah... fairly so, sir. It’s a, ah... security risk, I think. Sir.”

“Right. Come in.”

Ze let hir hand fall to push the door open, then hesitated.

“I’m dressed, don’t worry. Just haven’t gotten through my caf yet.”

The wry comment made Venka smile for a brief second before ze pushed the door open. Skywalker was sat at the table, a cup of caf in his hands. Venka stopped just inside the door and saluted.

“As you were.” Luke gestured to the seat. “If you want caf, there’s more in the pot.”

“Ah... thank you, sir, but I should wait.” Ze folded into the seat opposite Skywalker, fingers twisting around each other. “Ah... it’s about Mobatha Chait, sir.”

“Call me Luke, there’s no need to be formal.” Luke waved a hand. His eyes were still heavy-lidded. He didn’t look like he’d slept well. Either that, or he was bad at waking up. How long did one get away with being slow in the mornings in the Alliance? Imperial garrisons seemed to make beating that tendency out of their trainees a priority. “Mobatha Chait? The one from an Imperial garrison who came in with the same ship you did?”

Venka nodded. “She’s... well... I’m... I’m fairly certain that she’s an Imperial intelligence agent. Sir. Skywalker.”

Skywalker chuckled into his caf at hir awkward fumbling. “Just skip the honorifics if you can. We can work up to pilots’ manners. An Imperial intelligence agent? Active?”

“I think so... Skywalker. She was undercover on an inspection tour of my old garrison. Doesn’t really look the same, but I’m... I’m confident. And she’s been... she’s been sneaking around asking everyone the same sort of questions.”

“Oh? What kind of questions?”

“Ah...” Venka winced.

“You’re not the one asking them, Venka. It’ll just help clarify the situation if you explain.”

“Right. Ah... she’s been asking about your family and... potential partners, who one could threaten were one to want to blackmail you or push you into doing something... reckless. Sir.” Ze bit hir lip for a moment at the inadvertent honorific, but Skywalker just nodded, though his brow tightened. “People have started to wonder if she’s interested in you... the extended interest seems suspicious otherwise.”

Skywalker winced, but his eyes had glazed over. Venka fell silent, watching the commander as his gaze fell into his caf. Something whispered in the room just out of hir hearing, something warm and... life-like, somehow, despite the fact that it just sounded like distant low voices.

“I’ll look into it as soon as possible.” Skywalker’s gaze snapped back to Venka, making hir start. “We’ll have to investigate far enough to find proof before we can court-martial her appropriately, but she won’t be allowed to leave base until that’s cleared up. Thank you for letting me know.”

Venka nodded, with a gulp. “Am I... sir...”

“If that’s all, yes, you’re free to go.” Skywalker nodded, offering a warm smile as he lifted his cup of caf again. “Whatever happens, Mobatha won’t hear who might have tipped command off. Don’t worry about that.”

“Ah... thank you, sir. Skywalker.” Once again ze bit hir lip, but Skywalker didn’t react to it that time either.

Maybe it was the degree of stiffness that really distinguished the Imperial garrison from the rebellion, not the exact degree of formality. That wouldn’t make hir get used to it any faster, but it was good to know.

 

Mobatha started at the knock on the door. This was early in the morning and the Rebel Alliance didn’t seem to bother with morning muster unless they were anticipating a more immediate attack. “Who is it?”

“Honour Guard of the Alliance to Restore the Republic. You are under arrest effective immediately, on charges of involvement with the Galactic Empire’s intelligence service.”

Mobatha jumped out of her chair, hand reaching for a blaster. “Who – what gives you the -”

The door swung open. She lifted the blaster, finger settling on the trigger, only to have the weapon fly out of her hands and into the grip of Commander Skywalker, who sighed and waved the geared-up rebel soldiers behind him into the room.

Mobatha growled as the soldiers pinned her arms back. “Who tipped you off?”

Commander Skywalker looked at the blaster in his hand, shrugged and let it fall to the floor. It clunked down just as the binders clicked into place around Mobatha’s wrists. “I doubt the Emperor decided to personally investigate my relationships on the advice of anyone truly committed to the rebellion.”

Mobatha’s mouth fell open. “The Emperor... personally investigating... what do you mean to suggest by -”

“That’s enough,” one of the soldiers growled under their breath. “Let’s get you moving.”

Commander Skywalker stepped aside to allow the soldiers to escort Mobatha away, not a flicker of expression on his face. Mobatha glared at him as she was marched past. He might have smiled faintly for a brief moment, but then she was past him and out of the door to her quarters.

Her presence here _was_ the Emperor’s ‘personal investigation’ of the Commander’s habits! He shouldn’t have been able to deduce that she was here for that specific purpose and not the rebellion – not unless he’d managed to revive that old mind trick that Jedi were said to have...

Well, even if this apparently heartless, inhuman Commander had nothing to do with the other Skywalker bastard, he certainly had enough unnatural tricks in him to be some new Jedi breed of rebel scum.

 

So difficult to know if the message he’d tried to send _why couldn’t I have listened to it myself_ had reached his son, made itself understood. His master had twisted a dreamscape that he’d brushed against several times, and now... had Sidious demanding that rare love from Luke made his son shut out the possibility of any love at all?

 _No._ A gloved hand clenched into a fist folded into the opposite elbow. Sidious had drawn out the faces of a thousand rebels _he cares for all of them still_ and found ties as tight as electronic nerves between them and his son. Luke could have faith in all those people, compassion _love of a kind_ for all of them.

And it was a love that Sidious did not consider important, did not consider worth preying on.

“... don’t understand how he lives... kill off every life form in the galaxy if we all...”

 _No more angels fallen to my failures._ He watched Sidious pace and mutter around the room and stayed silent. _I will not leave my son to be alone_ _in this galaxy._

And if what he’d seen as Sidious had tried to claw apart his son’s dreamscape was any indication, Luke was far less lonely in the Rebellion than he’d been among the Jedi. So much feeling, so much _warmth_ for so many. Heartless? How could he be, to hold all those people so close in his mind?

Something old and tired in his chest, near dead, swelled to warmth with the whispers of the breeze over Naboo’s lakes as his clenched fist relaxed against the chirping metal of his arm.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Palps had to hijack Vader's bond with Luke in order to reach Luke at all, so Vader got taken along for the whole ride and spends the first five minutes just out of sight with his arms folded before going 'wait a minute, the way Luke feels _right now_ is the way I felt before meeting Padmé again, and how I've felt ever since I lost her, and _I'll be damned if I let all the pain I felt because of that happen to **my son** on my watch_ and also no one else dies the way Padmé did ever again'.  
>  For the sake of nominal consistency in order to make me feel more organised, this is written to be same 'verse as the rest of _Glass Candles_ (even if making it a series was mostly in the interests of having a place to point to and say 'here is all my a-spec Star Wars nonsense'), so Vader's not really on top of the whole 'Luke is aroace and Anakin is demi but didn't realise that was a thing you could be and it kind of hecked up his ability to handle a relationship' thing that I wrote into Not That Heart (since I kinda implied in NTH that Anakin was just then figuring it out), hence his general bewilderment and slightly inaccurate assumptions.


End file.
